


On Beeley Moor

by LilyK



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Action/Adventure, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 02:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11454282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyK/pseuds/LilyK
Summary: Doyle searches for his missing partner.





	On Beeley Moor

**Part One**

It took Doyle almost a week to find Bodie. He'd searched the entire hamlet where Bodie had last been spotted, looking into every corner, every cupboard, every bath and every bed that contained both women and men. The suspect CI5 had captured, a bloke named Sorensen, had said Bodie was in Lark End and for some odd reason, instinct probably, Doyle believed him.

"Last time I saw him, he were sorta alive," Sorensen had crowed, spat blood, cackled triumphantly, then inconveniently died. Doyle would have enjoyed killing him but he was robbed of the chance. He hated when that happened.

Foot by foot, Doyle widened his search from the village into the countryside. He questioned every single person, young, old and in-between. When his efforts proved fruitless, he decided to ditch the car for a horse, packed a satchel with first aid supplies, water, food and whiskey, and headed out yet again. The moors were such an inviting place for camping, especially in winter, he mused. He froze over a small campfire for two nights and three days, but determination kept him moving, that and a bit of the whiskey now and again.

The stone house loomed out of the early morning fog, a square grey thing, sturdy looking, two stories with three glassless windows. Doyle sat astride the horse, eyes peering through the dim light. He raised his nose and sniffed. Smoke. Doyle spurred the horse much too roughly and it snorted and danced at the harsh treatment. He sighed, reined the animal in and patted its neck, speaking in a low tone, apologising for his inconsideration. He sent the animal into a trot, gently this time, and circled the building. Cautious as always, he was grateful the thick peat muffled the sound of the horse's hooves.

Satisfied when no one peered out, he sat a few yards away, listening, watching, smelling. With gun in hand, he walked the horse once again around the perimeter. The windows had been covered with canvas from the inside so any view inside was blocked. He wanted to inspect the house's entrances more closely so he dismounted and held the reins as he studied the door.

With nothing to tether the horse to, he hobbled it. No sense in losing his only transport back to the village. He didn't give credence to the idea that Bodie might need to be tied to the horse to be brought back for– The image of men from those cowboy films, lashed across the saddle of a horse and carried back to the local town's undertaker, flashed through his mind. Doyle stamped away the vision with a muttered curse.

Only one door allowed entrance but that was covered with a thick slab of wood. Inspection revealed that it was without a handle or hinges on the outside. Doyle pushed against it but it didn't budge an inch. Reminded Doyle of how immovable Cowley was regarding improperly submitted expense chits. The smell of smoke was stronger here and he glanced up at the chimney. Any escaping smoke mingled with the wisps of mist drifting over the roof. Droplets of fog gathered on his face and in his hair and the occasional drop of water insisted on sliding under his upturned collar. He shivered at the coldness of it.

He longed to call out his partner's name but caution held him back. Bodie would have heard him approaching and since his appearance was going unchallenged, he reckoned it was more than likely some hiker who'd hold up for the night and upon the coming of dawn, had started to cook his breakfast. But of course, Doyle wouldn't leave without seeing for himself that the occupant of the dwelling was truly not his Bodie.

His Bodie. Truer words had never been thought, he knew. This past week, with Bodie missing, Doyle had realised just how much the annoying man meant to him. He resolved to tell Bodie his innermost desires the minute he found him and that decision gave Doyle the strength to forge on. He would find Bodie and he would be alive. Doyle would accept no other result.

Still clutching his gun, he circled the building. Since entering by the door was impossible, he crept to one of the windows and pushed on the canvas. It held. He pressed harder against whatever anchored it from the inside and was rewarded with a ripping sound and one loose corner. He stood still, waiting, listening. No one confronted him when he climbed through the opening.

The interior was a single large dark space. He blinked, his eyes immediately drawn to the crackling fire burning in the hearth. It wasn't a big fire but it provided the only light in the room, leaving the corners in darkness. He took a step forward. Something smashed across the back of his head and he pitched to the ground, gun clattering as it skittered away from him. He cried out with surprise and pain as an angry voice cut through the darkness.

"Tried to sneak in, eh? No trespassing!"

Doyle rolled over and saw the figure holding his home-made club overhead ready to bring it down on him once again. He swiped at the tears of pain as the figure of a man advanced, taking aim. His assailant's face came into view.

"Bodie?"

Bodie's arms wavered and his eyes widened. "Do I know you?"

**Part Two**

"Do I know you?" Bodie blurted out, staring down at the man sprawled at his feet on the stone floor.

"Bodie, please." The man held up a hand in defence.

Bodie looked down at him and the anger he'd felt faded away. He slowly lowered his weapon and, for some odd reason, was inordinately pleased when the man let out a relieved sigh and his face relaxed somewhat. "Sorry," Bodie muttered, dropping the club and rubbing at his forehead.

His visitor slowly rose, touching the place where Bodie'd hit him. "Do you— Are you— Don't you know who I am?"

Bodie shrugged. "Got clobbered one too many times, mate. Seems I've a bit of a blank space in my memory."

"Christ, how long?"

"Three, maybe four days." Bodie eyed him intently. "Remember my name and this and that, but some stuff is missing. Not to worry though, it'll come back eventually."

"How do you know that?"

"Don't know, but then, it seems you know me. You can fill in the blanks. You can start with your name and how you know me."

"Ray Doyle. I'm your- ah, yeah, right. You 'n me are mates.." Doyle looked away, licked his lips and let out a huff of breath. "Partners. Colleagues."

Bodie stared as the man – Doyle - suddenly blushed, stammered, and took a half step forward with his right hand outstretched. Doyle was clearly hiding something. His stance showed that he was tired and confused, and even angry. Upon closer inspection, Bodie took in the slim build, a head of brown curls and intense green eyes. He liked Doyle's angular face and masculine good looks. Bodie was immediately drawn to him. In fact, Bodie felt a flush of lust rush through him and he almost staggered at the impact. He took a step closer to his guest until their fingers were a mere inch apart.

Doyle meant something to him. Something important. He stared at Doyle, who suddenly pulled back his hand and shoved it into his pocket. Bodie cocked his head and studied Doyle intently. What was this apparent mate of his hiding? Even as Doyle regained his composure and prattled on about obbos and London and terrorists and CI5, Bodie realised that Doyle was not speaking about something, something big, something important.

"CI5?" Bodie responded. "I can feel the right of that. Yeah, I like that sort of work and I remember being in Africa and-" He wrinkled his forehead "Jordan. Lots of places before this mob."

"Yeah, you've got it," Doyle said reassuringly.

"Told you it'd come back to me," Bodie said triumphantly, all the while watching Doyle. His friend appeared to have pushed aside whatever emotions had surfaced and now appeared to be a matey colleague, pleased to have found his long time partner. Why did that make Bodie sad? What had he missed?

"I'm happy to see you," Bodie said with as warm a smile as he could muster. "Didn't happen to bring anything to eat with you, did you? I've been living on nicked tins of veg and beans the last few days."

"Yes," Doyle cried, much too cheerfully, and practically bounced over to the doorway. "Come on then," he said as he attacked the board holding the makeshift door in place, "shift yourself and lend a hand if you want brekkie. Got some good things in the pack. Even have something for that sweet tooth of yours. Smoked bacon to fry up and bread too. It might be a bit stale but we'll fry it in bacon grease. It'll be tasty. Even brought a pan and a kettle."

Bodie moved to help, all the while wondering why Doyle was talking a mile a minute, prattling, and suddenly Bodie knew that Doyle, his Doyle, didn't prattle. Even when he was nervous or out of sorts, he tended more to quiet and broody. Together, they took away the heavy wood plank covering the door. "I'll stoke the fire while you get the grub."

Without looking at him, Doyle nodded and almost ran from the room. To Bodie, it felt as if Doyle couldn't wait to get away from him. He stood rubbing his forehead, pondering the weirdness of the situation.

Doyle had cared enough to search for him. Doyle had risked his life to find him. Doyle had brought food he liked. He wondered why Doyle had done all of that yet seemed so bloody nervous around him. Doyle didn't prattle; quiet and broody, quick to anger, quick to forgive. Bodie worried his lower lip. Doyle was hiding something. Bodie gave a quick nod, pleased with himself for remembering, for knowing about Doyle and his ways. Now all he needed to do was find out what his friend was hiding.

Bodie stoked the fire, tossed on more wood and poked at the burning logs with a stick. With each passing second, memories returned. Puzzle pieces fell into place. Blanks were filled and by the time Doyle entered the cottage with his arms full of supplies, Bodie had a fairly clear picture of exactly what Doyle meant to him.

In spite of his aches and pains, he was thrilled with this discovery. Unable to hold his tongue for another second, Bodie met Doyle as he came towards the hearth. He took the supplies from Doyle's arms and set them down. He stood and put both of his hands on Doyle's biceps. Doyle's eyes widened and he looked almost frightened when Bodie moved even closer.

"You came for me. You found me." Bodie said, incredulously. "You must really love me."

Doyle's mouth opened and closed several times, making Bodie grin. He saw the surprise in Doyle's eyes and he saw the hesitation as well. He could almost hear the war going on in Doyle's head. He'd be asking himself how and what Bodie knew about his feelings for him, and if he leaned over and kissed Bodie, would Bodie punch his lights out.

Bodie gave Doyle a knowing smirk, leaned in and planted a big one on his lips. Doyle gasped against Bodie's mouth but when Bodie didn't back off and didn't slug him, he leaned into Bodie and returned the kiss with enthusiasm.

After many minutes, Doyle pulled away and put a hand on Bodie's chest. "How did you know?"

Bodie rolled his eyes. "Could read it in your face, Ray."

"But you're not into blokes!" Doyle protested.

"You never asked."

"I've never seen you show the least bit of interest in any man before," Doyle insisted.

"I know when to show my hand and when to hold my cards, mate. Pot," Bodie said, pointing at Doyle, then to himself. "Kettle. Besides, you never did either."

Doyle shook his head, his hands clutching Bodie's forearms. "Fine pair of special agents we make, can't even tell what out best mate feels or needs or wants."

"Don't beat yourself up. Not usually investigating each other, are we?"

Doyle laughed. "But we could start."

Bodie joined in the laughter. "Yeah, we could do some thorough investigating of each other very soon, but..." He deliberately let his words trail off, grinning like a fool.

"But—" Doyle's smile vanished and he took on a wary look.

"Breakfast! I'm famished."

The transformation was amazing. Doyle's face lit up as he laughed. "Come on, then. Let's feed that bottomless pit of yours so we can go home."

"Home," Bodie said softly. "Already am, Ray, already am."

End!


End file.
